1 Lord. O! yes, into a thousand similes. First, for his weeping in the 'needless stream; "Poor deer," quoth he, "thou mak'st a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which hath too much." Then, being there Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends; ""Tis right," quoth he; "thus misery doth part

Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; The flux of company." Anon, a careless herd,

And tune his merry note

Touch. And I mine. I remember, when I was in love I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile: and I remember the kissing of her batler, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chapped hands had milked: and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her; from whom I took two cods, and, giving her them again, said with weeping tears, "Wear these for my sake." We, that are true lovers, run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.

Ros. Thou speakest wiser than thou art 'ware of.
Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own wit,
Till I break my shins against it.

Ros. Love, love! this shepherd's passion
Is much upon my fashion.

Touch. And mine; but

It grows something stale with me,

2 And begins to fail with me.

Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond' man,

If he for gold will give us any food:

I faint almost to death.

Touch. Holla, you clown!
Ros.

Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see no enemy,

But winter and rough weather.

Jaq. More, more! I pr'ythee, more.
Ami. It will make you melancholy, monsieur
Jaques.

Jaq. I thank it. More! I pr'ythee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More! I pr'ythee, more.

Ami. My voice is ragged; I know I cannot please you.

Jaq. I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to sing. Come, more; another stanza. Call you 'em stanzas?

Ami. What you will, monsieur Jaques.

Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing. Will you sing?

Ami. More at your request, than to please myself. Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you: but that they call compliment is like

Peace, fool: he's not thy kinsman. the encounter of two dog-apes; and when a man

Cor. Who calls?

Touch. Your betters, sir.

Cor. Else are they very wretched.
Ros.

Good even to you, friend.

Peace, I say.

Cor. And to you, gentle sir; and to you all.
Ros. I pr'ythee, shepherd, if that love, or gold,
Can in this desert place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may rest ourselves, and feed.
Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd,
And faints for succor.

Fair sir, I pity her,

Cor.
And wish, for her sake more than for mine own,
My fortunes were more able to relieve her;

But I am shepherd to another man,
And do not shear the fleeces that I graze:
My master is of churlish disposition,

And little recks to find the way to heaven

By doing deeds of hospitality.

Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed,
Are now on sale; and at our sheepcote now,

By reason of his absence, there is nothing
That you will feed on; but what is, come see,
And in my voice most welcome shall you be.

Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?
Cor. That young swain that you saw here but fere-
That little cares for buying any thing.

Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.

[while,

Cel. And we will mend thy wages. I like this place, And willingly could waste my time in it.

Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold.

Go with me: if you like, upon report,

The soil, the profit, and this kind of life,
I will your very faithful feeder be,

And buy it with your gold right suddenly. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.-Another Part of the Forest.
Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and others.

SONG.

Ami. Under the greenwood tree,

Who loves to lie with me,

A batler, or batlet, was a washerwoman's stick for beat ing linen. Peascod was the ancient term for peas in the pod, the cod being the pod.- Cares.-d "Cote," L. e., cot; cottage. "In my voice," 1. e., as far as I have a voice, or vote. "But erewhile," i, e., but just now.

thanks me heartily, methinks, I have given him a penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues.

Ami. Well, I'll end the song.-Sirs, cover the while; the duke will drink under this tree.-He hath been all this day to look you.

h

Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable for my company: I think of as many matters as he, but I give heaven thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble; come.

SONG.

Who doth ambition shun, [All together here.
And loves to live the sun,

Seeking the food he eats,

And pleas'd with what he gets,

Come hither, come hither, come hither:

Here shall he see, &c.

Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I made yesterday in despite of my invention.

Ami. And I'll sing it.

Jaq. Thus it goes:

If it do come to pass,
That any man turn ass
Leaving his wealth and ease,
A stubborn will to please,
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame,

Here shall he see, gross fools as he,

An if he will come to me.

Ami. What's that ducdame?

Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation to call fools into a circle. I'll go sleep if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt.

Ami. And I'll go seek the duke: his banquet is [Exeunt severally. prepared.

a little. If this uncouth forest yield any thing sav-| That I am wise. I must have liberty age,

I will either be food for it, or bring it for food Withal, as large a charter as the wind, to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy pow-To blow on whom I please; for so fools have: ers. For my sake be 1comforted; hold death awhile And they that are most galled with my folly, at the arm's end. I will here be with thee present- They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so? ly, and if I bring thee not something to eat, I will The why is plain as way to parish church: give thee leave to die; but if thou diest before I He, that a fool doth very wisely hit, come, thou art a mocker of my labor. Well said! Doth very foolishly, although he smart, thou look'st cheerily; and I'll be with thee quickly. But to seem senseless of the bob; if not, -Yet thou liest in the bleak air: come, I will bear The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd, thee to some shelter, and thou shalt not die for lack Even by the squandering glances of the fool. of I dinner, if there live any thing in this desert. Invest me in my motley: give me leave Cheerly, good Adam. [Exeunt. To speak my mind, and I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of th' infected world, If they will patiently receive my medicine. [do. Duke S. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but good? Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin: For thou thyself hast been a libertine, As sensual as the brutish sting itself; And all th' embossed sores, and headed evils, That thou with licence of free foot hast caught, Would'st thou disgorge into the general world.

SCENE VII.-The Same.

A Table set out. Enter DUKE Senior, AMIENS,
Lords, and others.

Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a beast,
For I can no where find him like a man.

1 Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence: Here was he merry, hearing of a song.

Duke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.-
Go, seek him: tell him, I would speak with him.
Enter JAQUES.

1 Lord. He saves my labor by his own approach.
Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is
this,

That your poor friends must woo your company!
What, you look merrily.

Jaq. A fool, a fool!- -I met a fool i' the forest,
A motley fool; (a miserable world!)
As I do live by food, I met a fool,

Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,
And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
"Good-morrow, fool," quoth I: "No, sir," quoth he,
"Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune."
And then he drew a dial from his 'poke,
And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, "It is ten o'clock:

Thus may we see," quoth he, "how the world wags:
"Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;
And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
And then from hour to hour we rot and rot;
And thereby hangs a tale." When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep contemplative;
And I did laugh, sans intermission,
An hour by his dial.-O, noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.
Duke S. What fool is this?

[courtier,
Jaq. O, worthy fool!-One that hath been a
And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
They have the gift to know it; and in his brain,
Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd
With observation, the which he vents

In mangled forms.-O, that I were a fool!
I am ambitious for a motley coat.
Duke S. Thou shalt have one.
Jaq.
It is my only suit;
Provided, that you weed your better judgments
Of all opinion that grows rank in them,

"Compact of jars," i. e., made up of discords." Motley," ie., parti-colored; an allusion to the parti-colored dress of fools or clowns.- An allusion to the proverb: "Fools are the favorites of fortune." Pocket- Moralize. Without.- "My only suit," a quibble between suit, a petition, and suit, a dress.

Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride,
That can therein tax any private party?
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,
Till that the 3 very means of wear do ebb?
What woman in the city do I name,
When that I say, the city-woman bears
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?
Who can come in, and say, that I mean her,
When such a one as she, such is her neighbor?
Or what is he of basest function,

That says, his bravery is not on my cost,
Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits
His folly to the mettle of my speech?
There then; how then? what then? Let me see
wherein

My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right,
Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free,
Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies,
Unclaim'd of any man. But who comes here?
Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn.
arl. Forbear, and eat no more.
Jaq.
Why, I have eat none yet,
Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd.
Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of?
Duke S. Art thou thus boldened, man, by thy

distress,

Or else a rude despiser of good manner,
That in civility thou seem'st so empty?

[point

Orl. You touch'd my vein at first: the thorny

Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show
Of smooth civility; yet am I minland bred,
And know some nurture. But forbear, I say:
He dies, that touches any of this fruit,

Till I and my affairs are answered.

Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, I must die.

Duke S. What would you have? Your gentleness
shall force,

More than your force move us to gentleness.
Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it.
Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our
table.
[you:
Orl. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray
I thought, that all things had been savage here,
And therefore put I on the countenance

"But to seem senseless," i. e., to seem otherwise than senseless. Counters were pieces of false money used in reckoning. Finery. Censure; reproach. -“Inland bred," i. e., not clownishly bred.- Education; manners.

Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are,
That, in this desert inaccessible,

Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time,
If ever you have look'd on better days,

If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church,

If ever sat at any good man's feast,

If ever from your eye-lids wip'd a tear,
And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied,
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be.
In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword.
Duke S. True is it that we have seen better days,
And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church,
And sat at good men's feasts, and wip'd our eyes
Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd;
And therefore sit you down in gentleness,
And take, upon commend, what help we have,
That to your wanting may be minister'd.

1

Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while,
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn,
And give it food. There is an old poor man,
Who after me hath many a weary step
Limp'd in pure love: till he be first suffic'd,
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger,
I will not touch a bit.

Go find him out,

Duke S.
And we will nothing waste till you return.
Orl. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good
[Exit.

comfort!

Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy

This wide and universal theatre

Presents more woful pageants, than the scene
Wherein we play a in.

Jaq.
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Then, a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice,
In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd,
With eye severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion;

SCENE I.-A Room in the Palace.

Enter Duke FREDERICK, OLIVER, Lords and
Attendants.

Duke F. Not 3 seen him since? Sir, sir, that can-
But were I not the better part made mercy, [not be:
I should not seek an absent argument
Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it:
Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is;
Seek him with candle: bring him, dead or living,
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more
To seek a living in our territory.

Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine,
Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands,
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth
Of what we think against thee.

Oli. O, that your highness knew my heart in this!
I never lov'd my brother in my life.

Duke F. More villain thou.-Well, push him out of doors;

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. And let my officers of such a nature

Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM.

Duke S. Welcome. Set down your venerable
And let him feed.
[burden,
Orl.
I thank you most for him.
Adam. So had you need;
I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
Duke S. Welcome; fall to: I will not trouble you

Pleonasms of this kind were common in Shakespeare's age.-b"Modern," i, e., trite; common; trivial,- The pantaloon, in the Italian farce, was an emaciated old man in slippers. Without

Make an hextent upon his house and lands.
Do this expediently, and turn him going. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Forest of Arden.
Enter ORLANDO, 4hanging a paper on a tree.
Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love:
And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey

To warp, in this passage, signifies to weave into a firm texture, to freeze."Remember'd not," i. e., unmindful; forgetful.- Subject." Make an extent," i. e., seize by legal process. Expeditiously.